O'Neill hastened to the _Mail_ office. He waved yellow bills before the lanky Howe. "In the nick of time," he cried. "Me, the fair-haired hero. And here's the fare, Harry--the good old railroad fare." "Heaven be praised," said Howe. "I've finished the job, Bob. Not a trace of this morning's issue left. The fare! North in parlor cars! My tobacco heart sings. Can't you hear the elevated--" "Music, Harry, music." "And the newsboys on Park Row--" "Caruso can't touch them. Where can we find a time-table, I wonder?" Meanwhile, in a corner of the plaza, Manuel Gonzale spoke sad words in the ear of Martin Wall. "It's the jinx," moaned Wall with conviction. "The star player in everything I do down here. I'm going to burn the sand hot-footing it away. But whither, Manuel, whither?" "In Porto Rico," replied Gonzale, "I have not yet plied my trade. I go there." "Palm Beach," sighed Wall, "has diamonds that can be observed to sparkle as far away as the New York society columns. But alas, I lack the wherewithal to support me in the style to which my victims are accustomed." "Try Porto Rico," suggested Gonzale. "The air is mild--so are the police. I will stake you." "Thanks. Porto Rico it is. How the devil do we get there?" Up the main avenue of San Marco Spencer Meyrick walked as a man going to avenge. With every determined step his face grew redder, his eye more dangerous. He looked at his watch. Eleven. The eleventh hour! But much might happen between the eleventh hour and high noon! CHAPTER XXI HIGH WORDS AT HIGH NOON In the Harrowby suite the holder of the title, a handsome and distinguished figure, adorned for his wedding, walked nervously the rather worn carpet. His brother, hastily pressed into service as best man, sat puffing at a cigar with a persistency which indicated a somewhat perturbed state of mind on his own part. "Brace up, Allan," he urged. "It'll be over before you realize it. Remember my own wedding--gad, wasn't I frightened? Always that way with a man--no sense to it, but he just can't help it. Never forget that little parlor, with the flower of Marion society all about, and me with my teeth chattering and my knees knocking together." "It is a bit of an ordeal," said Allan weakly. "Chap feels all sort of--gone--inside--" The telephone, ringing sharply, interrupted. George Harrowby rose and stepped to it. "Allan? You wish Allan? Very well. I'll tell him." He turned away from the telephone and faced his brother. "It was old Meyrick, kid. Seemed somewhat hot under the collar. Wants to see you in their suite at once." "Wha--what do you imagine he wants?" "Going to make you a present of Riverside Drive, I fancy. Go ahead, boy. I'll wait for you here." Allan Harrowby went out, along the dusky corridor to the Meyrick door. Not without misgivings, he knocked. A voice boomed "Come!" He pushed open the door.